


Is It Any Wonder

by radmeamidala



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Minor Injuries, No editing we die like mne, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stephanie Brown character study, The Batfam doesn't like feelings, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-04-13 12:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14112585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radmeamidala/pseuds/radmeamidala
Summary: Trauma doesn't care what you want.Steph centric.





	1. Breakfast and Breakdowns

**Author's Note:**

> This snowballed from me being emo about Stephanie Brown to writing a drabble to writing a whole fic??? Yikes, I'm in deep. Enjoy!
> 
> (Also, warning for total overuse of the word "she".)

 

It starts with a peaceful, albeit early, breakfast at the Manor. The lot of them had stumbled in around sunrise after an exhaustingly long patrol. _Arkham breakouts, always a joy._ After first aid and a round of half-hearted banter, Alfred had marched them all up from the cave to a beautiful spread of fresh fruit, homemade orange juice, and waffles. Stephanie was in absolute heaven.

 

As the group seated themselves around the table, Dick called a greeting from the somewhere within the kitchen. Since he had been benched for the night on account of two fractured ribs and a mild concussion, he had decided to occupy himself with fixing the broken doors of the kitchen pantry. He tended to get antsy when out of the field and had decided to “help out” Alfred with a few minor repairs around the manor.

 

Hardly paying him any mind, Stephanie snagged two waffles and proceeded to smother them in Alfred-made buttery, syrupy, goodness. Damian passed her the carafe of juice and she poured herself a glass with a grin. He rolled his eyes and mumbled something about her smiling like an idiot. She shot him an obnoxious wink and passed the juice over to Tim. She was having a fantastic morning. _Morning? Night? Morning._ She digs in. Waffles, no serious injuries, and a day off from class meant for sleeping in late and hanging around in her pajamas, perhaps catching up on The Bachelor? Pure bliss---

 

The shrill sound of a power drill breaks through the calm monotony of flatware scraping across plates. Stephanie’s whole body flinches. She feels the blood drain from her face. Her heart pounds.

 

The drill stops. She takes in a sharp breath. The room around her fades out of focus as her mind starts a highlight reel of Stephanie Brown’s _Holy Shit That Was Bad_ ™ Moments. She tries to steer her thoughts back to the present but, well, her brain is on a roll.

 

The drill starts once more. Stephanie jerks again and drops her fork with a clang. Her body begins to shake. Damian glances up from his neatly carved waffle. She doesn’t notice the questioning arch of his brow.

 

Her previously ravenous appetite has seemingly packed its bags and left, leaving her feeling hollow… and slightly nauseated. She tries to steady her breathing but its a lost cause. She backs her chair away from the table and, with fumbling hands, gathers up her unfinished juice and waffles. She can feel all eyes on her now. Hastily pushing in her chair with a kick of her foot, she all but sprints out of the room.

 

Stephanie stumbles in through the kitchen door and rushes to the sink to clear her dishes. She feels herself starting to hyperventilate.

 

 _Hoooly Yikes._ She absolutely refuses to have a panic attack in Bruce Wayne’s kitchen. Can’t she keep some of her pride and at least do it in the guest bathroom... _or hmm maybe at home?_

 

The drill goes off again to her left and Stephanie yelps. Her plate crashes to the floor. She drops to her knees and scrambles to gather up the pieces of broken china. The thundering of her pulse in her ears is deafening.

 

She jumps at the hand on her arm and snaps her head up to see Alfred kneeling down beside her. From the look on his face, he seems to have been trying to get her attention for a few moments. She can’t seem to get words out. Her breath is coming out in quick gasps, her hand is bleeding, and her fingers are numb--- Stephanie starts to cry.  

 

The butler gently moves his hand to her shoulder and eases her into sitting down. She scoots herself into the corner of the cabinets and hides her face in her hands.

 

She’s full-on sobbing now and she can’t make herself stop. Her whole body aches with how tense she is and certain scars throb with the memories that accompany them.

 

Distantly, Stephanie hears voices in the kitchen entryway. A minute later she feels someone peel her hand away from her face and start to apply an antiseptic. More murmuring. She’s trembling. She tries to pull herself out of her head and gather up some of her composure.

 

A soft voice pulls her from her thoughts, she lifts her head up. Dick is sitting on the floor in front of her wearing a bewildered but concerned expression. She gets her breathing under control and forces herself to meet his eyes.

 

“Hey,” he hesitates, “Uh, how’s your hand?”

 

Stephanie glances down at her bandaged hand and can’t help but laugh, slightly hysterical. God, she hadn’t even noticed. Rubbing the remaining tears from her eyes, she tries to find her voice.

 

“Fine- it's fine.”

 

A beat of silence. A sigh.

 

“Steph, what happened?”

 

She feels her face heat up. Shit. _This sucks. This totally sucks._ She picks at the gauze on her hand and ponders how to explain herself without feeling like an idiot. _Welp, too late now._

 

“I, uh, forgot I don’t respond too well to power tools.” She tries to laugh but it comes out wet and hoarse. Her eyes well up again and she looks away.

 

Dick pales in realization.

 

“God, Steph, I’m sorry-”

 

He moves suddenly as if to hug her but she flinches and he drops his hands to his lap. Honestly, they’ve never been that close. _It’s fine, she knows this._ He settles for softly patting her knee. He’s only there because he’s the only one of the lot, other than Alfred, who isn’t allergic to most emotions. She tries not to cry again.

 

God, she misses Cass.

 

Her gaze shifts to the others who have gathered in the doorway. Tim’s expression is carefully blank, while Damian looks vaguely alarmed. Bruce’s face pinched in a way she hasn’t seen before.

 

Okay, _yikes, this is awkward_.

 

Stephanie frowns and looks at her hands. She hates this. Her flight response is ringing loudly. She needs to get outta here like, _yesterday._ She sits up onto her knees.

 

Alfred breaks the uncomfortable silence.

 

“Miss Stephanie, why don’t we move to the front sitting room instead of the floor.”

 

Dick gets to his feet and extends a hand down to her. She takes it.

 


	2. Tea Tim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Okay, so, I know that I'm officially like the worst. I'm a dirty liar when it comes to updates, but its been like 7 months?! Holy Shit. I'm so sorry for leaving you hanging. But, let me just say, sometimes life comes at you fast. And it sucks. But then it sucks less. So here we are! Thank you for all your kind words! They mean so much more than you know. Seriously. 
> 
>  
> 
> I have this story outlined, so basically, I know where its gonna go. I just gotta fill it all in. Buuuuut, it ended up being a lot more than I had originally planned. Yikes. And a lot sappier. Double yikes. 
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you like chapter two!

 

Now that she has her wits about her, Stephanie wants the ground to swallow her whole.

 

Damian is grumbling under his breath as he sweeps up the broken china for Alfred but has yet to make any snide remarks. _Small blessings._ Her face aflame, Steph accepts the mug of tea Alfred hands her and follows him from the kitchen.

 

She’s fine, _totally, absolutely, great._ Breakdown over. She can head on home now. She turns to Alfred, about to plead her case once again. He answers her beseeching gaze with a warm but resolute raise of his brow. _Yeah, not happening._ She sighs. She can feel Tim’s presence a few hesitant steps behind her. Bruce lingers back, having a silent conversation with Dick by the dining room table.

 

She holds back her groan of misery.

 

_Fine_. Fine. She can take a catnap or whatever to placate everybody, then shoot home and finish her meltdown.

 

She follows Alfred into one of the more frequently used parlors in the manor. After putting her mug down on the coffee table, Stephanie flops down on the big, well-worn couch. The more casual room was one of the few places up in the manor where she didn’t feel completely out of place. She closes her eyes and buries her face into the cushions. The heavy drapes have been pulled back, letting the early morning light pour in from the large windows. Alfred says something that she doesn’t catch, she’s already drifting. She finally feels warm again.

  


Steph wakes with a start a short while later, a blanket draped over her and her mug now resting on a coaster. It takes a few moments for her to come to full awareness. She feels fuzzy and distant and can already tell she has mad bedhead.

 

She sits up and finds Tim typing away on his laptop while lounging on the couch perpendicular to hers. She looks at him and he turns and looks at her and it’s... _awkward_.

 

It never used to be awkward.

 

She throws on a cautious grin, “Hey.”

 

He shoots back a small smile in return, “Hey.”

 

Her heart flutters without her consent.

 

“Come to hang out with me?” she leans back into the warmth of the couch, raising her arms up in a wide stretch. She hums in satisfaction when her joints pop and smirks when Tim shudders at the sound. Hmm, he still hates that.

 

Tim snorts, “You’re the best company here.”

 

“Pssh, I couldn’t even talk,” Steph grabs her lukewarm tea and takes a grateful sip. _Still good._

 

“Exactly.”

 

_Brat._ She pulls a face.

 

He rolls his eyes in retaliation but smiles, bigger now. “You were snoring though.”

 

She chokes a little, gasping in indignation, “No way!”

 

“Yeah way. Like a little chainsaw.” _Okay, now he’s being an ass._

 

“God, you would sit here and listen to me snore.”

 

“I was having a great time.”

 

“Guess I should be used to you watching me sleep by now, Edward Cullen,” she huffs, eyes full of mirth.

 

They both have a good laugh.

 

When she can breathe again, she takes a big sip. The two of them haven’t hung out as _normal people_ , in like, so long. They haven’t hung out _at all_ in so long. Suddenly it’s hard to swallow.

 

_Well, shit, that's depressing._

 

She drums her fingers against the side of her mug.

 

“At least you weren't sleep talking. Now that used to be entertaining.”

 

Tim is closer now, sitting up and leaning on the armrest nearest to her. Open.

 

She moved closer too, mirroring his position. Guess they still gravitate toward each other.

 

“I haven’t done that in ages, ” she scoffs but can’t keep the smile from her voice.

 

“Hm, guess it's been awhile.”

 

“It has been a while. I almost forgot what you looked like.”

 

_Now, now, Stephanie. Don’t ruin it._

 

Surprisingly, he chuckles. “Still the same.” There’s a wry twist to his mouth.

 

He lets himself fall into the back of the couch.  

 

It’s true. But it's not.

 

She moves her feet up to rest on the coffee table. Sipping more of her tea, she looks at him. Really looks.

 

Tim’s hair is longer, that's for sure. Looks good on him though. His jaw has sharpened. His eyes are still startlingly blue. But the dark circles under his them make him look pale. They weren’t that bad a year ago. Again, a lot has changed. Not all for the best. She thinks regretfully of his dad and Co- _Don’t go there._ His shoulders have broadened. He’s taller. He’s handsome. But he’s always been. _She wonders what he thinks of her._ Her mug is empty.

 

Tim looks up from his computer.

 

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

 

She pulls her phone from her sweatshirt pocket and does just that. She snaps a few pics and manages to catch one him failing to fight down a smile. _Keeper._

 

Steph is feeling optimistic.

 

“Wanna watch a movie?” She hates how hopeful she sounds.

 

“Nah, can’t. I gotta leave soon.” He almost sounds relieved.

 

She frowns.

 

“Well, then, the next time you’re in town.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” he says placating.

 

She rolls her eyes. _Yeah, okay._

 

“Sweet, take out’s on me. Your place good?” Then, to be petty, “I heard it’s pretty sick.”

 

He blinks in surprise but nods. Tim didn’t think she’d follow through. He should know better.

 

“Yeah, I guess.” A beat. “Thought you’d been there... Come by on Thursday.”

 

She’s mad now. _Seriously, Tim?_ This is the first face-to-face convo they’ve had in like a year. When would she have been over there? Maybe he didn’t notice the Stephanie shaped absence in his life. Maybe he didn’t care.

 

“I don’t have your address, boy wonder,” she tries for joking but it still comes out slightly bitter.

 

“Hm, I’ll text it to you.”

 

He’s trying to pull back.

 

“I don’t have your phone number either,” she mutters irked.

 

Once again he knows everything and she knows nothing. Just like old times.

 

He gives her a look, like he knows where her train of thought is heading.

 

She returns it in kind, then sighs.

 

“I’d just wanna see your face more,” she tries again. “Where’ve you been?”

 

It’s Tim’s turn to sigh.

 

“I’m mostly at the Tower now, only in Gotham for WE meetings really, or emergencies or whatever.”

 

“Hm, okay,” she frowns.

 

_Suspicions confirmed._

 

“When did that happen?”

 

His mouth twists up into something sour, “It’s a long story.”

 

She can tell that he doesn’t want to get into it, that this isn’t something she can pry out of him with some take-out and a bad horror flick. It’s not like that for them now. He doesn’t trust her like that anymore.

 

Steph can’t say that she knows who he is anymore. She knows he’s not Robin anymore. She knows that he’s with the Titans almost all the time now. She knows that his relationship with Dick is one underhanded comment away from a blowout and that he and Dami are only barely civil towards one another. She can see the almost imperceptible stiffness in the way he interacts with Bruce. She wants to know more.

 

He’s mostly a stranger now but she wants to get to know him again.

 

She opens her mouth to speak again but can’t seem to find the words. She plays with the edge of the blanket instead.

 

She can still see the boy she loved, from what feels like a lifetime ago. She can still see her best friend, her rock, her teammate.

 

And she wants it all back so badly that her heart aches. But they’re different now. In both good and bad ways. Time is funny like that.

 

He’s still looking at her so she holds his gaze and prays that maybe he can see it all in her face. She doesn’t want to say it out loud and screw it up. It always comes out wrong.

 

The air is heavy with the weight of the past.

 

Stephanie’s sad and angry and hopeful. She’s tempted to bite out something snarky out of instinct but she really doesn’t have the energy for a fight right now. She’s lost on what to make of them.

 

So she looks away and hangs her head over the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling and hoping that maybe he’ll leave. Or maybe he’ll finally forgive her. She forgave him a long time ago. She’s tired of pretending she hasn’t.

 

Now feeling restless, she springs up from the couch. Folding the blanket over the back of it and smoothing out the cushions, it’s like she was never there. She grabs her empty mug and turns to leave.

 

“Steph.”

 

She turns back around and he’s suddenly right there in her space and his eyes look strange and familiar and sad like hers and he’s pulling her into a hug. She wraps her arms around him and holds on desperately. Steph can feel him doing the same. She hears everything he won’t say. She kinda wants to cry and kinda wants to laugh. Her chest feels a little lighter.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope the rhythm and chapter lengths are working for everybody. And once again, this is unbeta'd so all errors are mine. 
> 
> Also don't worry, I'm gonna be dealing with the PTSD/trauma in the next chapter(s) so I'm not ignoring it. I just wanted to kinda set the stage for where everyone in the story is kinda settled, like relationships wise. Can you tell I love conflict? (Guess my zodiac sign). 
> 
> This story doesn't really follow any particular timeline in the DCU, I just kinda mish-mashed what I pleased. Hope it makes sense. 
> 
> If you have any thoughts or ideas I'd be thrilled to hear! Thanks!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This is hella unbeta'd and I haven't written fic in forever so, if there are any mistakes don't hesitate to let me know. All comments/questions are appreciated.
> 
>    
> The title is from the song of the same name by Keane.


End file.
